We get in the car. “Put the top up,” says Al.
“Not on your life,” says the movie star in the front seat. “Here, put these on.” She rummages in one of her bags and comes up with a blond wig just like the one she’s wearing, and another scarf. “AmberLea, help him.”
“What?” says Al.
Gloria Lorraine says, “You know, shooting a man is like straightening your stockings. A lady’s not supposed to do it, but sometimes you have to.”
He puts on the wig and kerchief.
“And these.” She tosses him some big sunglasses. The whole thing looks pretty interesting with what’s left of his mustache. Al slouches low in the seat.
“Let’s go,” says Gloria Lorraine.
That’s when I remember. “I have to call my dad.”
“Not now, Sparky.”
“Let’s go,” says Al.
All at once I realize that I’m in the driver’s seat. Literally. “No,” I say. “I call or we don’t go. Grandpa would want me to call.” I don’t know if the last part’s true, but it’s worth a shot. I wave my hand to make my point, and the car keys fly away into the Dumpster. Now everyone groans.
“Now what?” says AmberLea. “Maybe we should all just take a cab home.”
“Mistah Bones,” says Al, from under the wig and kerchief.
“What?”
“Mistah Bones. Put him in there. He finds my keys for me alla the time. Watch.”
Al scoops up the Chihuahua, gets out of the car and hoists the dog to the top of the Dumpster. The dog goes crazy, all four legs pedaling as if he’s on an imaginary bicycle. It probably smells like dog heaven to him. “Keys, Mistah Bones,” croons Al. “Keys for Papa.” Al lets go. The dog dives. There’s a lot of yipping, thumping and scrabbling, then the sound of Mister Bones whining. “Told you,”Al says proudly. “Get him out.”
“Cell phone first,” I say to Gloria Lorraine. She hands it to me. I climb up the side of the Dumpster. The smell makes my eyes water. Mister Bones is perched on a green bag, the keys in his mouth. I lift him out. The smell comes along. Everyone groans again as I put him in the backseat. I ignore them and punch in Jer’s number. It’s time to get out of this zoo.
“Yo.” Jer sounds as if I woke him. “Spence. What’s happening?”
“Well,” I say, “I’m with Gl—Miss Lorraine.”
“Cool. So, mission accomplished? You’ve been a while. I must have snoozed. You done soon?”
“Well, that’s the thing.” I know I have to be careful here. Gloria Lorraine still has the gun in her lap. “We’re not exactly at the Lodge right now. We’re, um, running some errands. Kind of. And it’s going to take us a couple more hours—”
“Days,” says Gloria Lorraine
“Days,” I say.
“DAYS?” That’s me, Jer, Al and AmberLea all at once. Our voices go up like roller coasters.
Gloria Lorraine nods.
“Uh, yeah, days,” I say to Jer.
“Or no kiss,” says Gloria Lorraine.
“Or no kiss,” I repeat. Oh yeah; for a moment I’d forgotten that. “I guess I have to.”
“Listen, Spence.” Jer’s voice gets firmer. “No, you don’t. This is screwy enough already. Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”
It sounds good to me. I look around. But what do I tell him? That I’m sitting near a supermarket, behind a Dumpster, in a white Caddy with a trunk full of something that probably isn’t icing sugar. I’m with a grumpy girl, a sketchy baker, a stinky Chihuahua and a ninety-year-old with a loaded gun? Do I just say, You’ll know us when you see us? For a second I wonder what Bunny would think of this. What will I tell him? I think of my cousins in France or Spain or Africa. What will I tell them? And AmberLea, who, while not superhot, is still pretty nice in skinny jeans: am I going to wimp out in front of her, just because her grandma waves a pistol with the safety off? What would I tell Grandpa? I think of how I dreamed of making my own movie. I take a deep breath. “No,” I say, “it’s okay. I’m cool with it. I have to make the movie.”
Behind me, Al says, “Movie? Over my dead body.”
“Obviously that can be arranged,” says Gloria Lorraine. Mister Bones yelps.
“Was that a dog?” Jer asks.
“Yeah, we’re at one of those dog-grooming places.” Where did that come from? I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve got to finish this. “Why don’t you go back to Aunt Vicky’s?”
“Tell him to go home,” says Gloria Lorraine. “I’ll get you back there.”
“Or go home,” I say to Jer. “Miss Lorraine promises to get me back.”
“But—” Jer says.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Damn right,” Al says.
I ignore him. “A couple of days. I’ll call. I promise. Nothing to worry about.”
“But, Spence—”
“Trust me,” I say. I switch off the phone. My heart is pounding, but it’s a good pounding. I think.
“That’s more like it,” says Gloria Lorraine. “I bet that’s what your grandpa would have done.” She points to the GPS. “Now, aim that thing north and get us to Canada.”